Page 45 of Breakaway

“Miss Adams.” He nods respectfully. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I won’t drag this out for the sake of niceties. I’m sure you’d like to be on your way. To start with, when was the last time you spoke with Seth Taylor?”

“Last night,” Andi responds. “I asked him about the hearing today, but he said that Hudson had a therapy session around the same time, so I assumed he wouldn’t be able to attend. I tried to touch base this morning, but my messages went unanswered.”

“Has Mr. Taylor ever given you any reason to believe his choices today were premeditated?” The others might not pick up on it, but I note the slight tightening of O’Connor’s shoulders, his unease seeping past the hardened exterior he presents to the public.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Andi whispers, her face scrunched in confusion.

“He’s wondering if you’re complicit in Tobias’ murder,” Briggs snaps, the pill he took doing nothing to ease his renewed agitation. Andi flinches, his blunt accusation causing a physical reaction.

“I have nothing to hide,” she insists, slipping her hand inside Briggs’ pants pocket to retrieve her phone, completely ignoring his grunt of surprise. “Here’s our text thread. You can check the timestamps of every conversation we’ve ever had. The only person I considered Seth a threat to is himself, and even then, I never thought he would do something that would result in leaving his son to fend for himself.” Her voice grows more steady with every word, that hard-earned backbone a thing of wonder.

“I have no doubts about your integrity, Miss Adams,” O’Connor backtracks, eyeing Briggs like the guard dog he is. “But it has to be on record that your involvement, or lack thereof, was thoroughly looked into, which I’m certain will result in you being cleared of any wrongdoing. It might not seem like it at the moment, but enduring this now will protect you going forward. Ada Stillwater is determined to prove that you somehow played even the most minuscule part in her son’s death, but with her mental state being what it is, her accusations are being taken with a grain of salt.” Andi and Briggs share a pointed look, each of us picking up on their discomfort.

“What is it?” Dayton demands, staring at the two of them intently, as if his probing gaze can pry the information out.

“She was there today,” Andi whispers, a shiver working its way through her body.

“How’s that possible?” Colsen directs the question to O’Connor, knowing he’s the most likely one of us to have an explanation.

“Her psychologist agreed that it could be beneficial to her recovery. Personally, I think they’re using it as a tool to see how she responds to being placed in an environment that should, theoretically, trigger the ingrained responses she was conditioned to have. Or so she claims,” O’Connor admits, earning him some favor amongst the five of us. I’m actually surprised he’s revealing his true sentiments about the situation.

“Bullshit. That woman is evil incarnate. The only reason she insisted on being there today is to taunt Andi. She wanted her to know that while Veritas might be crippled, it’s still breathing…unlike her son. Her intimidation tactics aren’t nearly as convincing as a bullet to the brain is,” Briggs deadpans, a faint smirk tilting the corner of his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, man,” Colsen huffs in exasperation. “A bit too soon, don’t ya think?” He gestures to Andi’s ashen face, the poorly timed joke clearly having an adverse effect on her.

“Shit,” Briggs swears, cupping the back of her head and bringing their foreheads together. It’s an intimate position, making me question just how close the two of them have grown over the past few weeks. I banish the thought before it can fully form, feeling guilty for even thinking about it when it’s not my business either way. “You good? I’ve got some nausea meds if you need them.” My brows pinch with curiosity, but I refrain from prying.

“I’m going to overlook your comment about a recently deceased murder victim,” O’Connor states, his unamused glare aimed at Briggs. “If you don’t mind, Miss Adams, I’d like to keep your phone for a few days, to rule out any possibility of you having been in contact with Seth earlier this morning.”

“That’s fine.” She nods in agreement, completely at ease with handing over her personal information because she has nothing to hide. We all know it; this is just a formality. “Are you able to tell us what’s going to happen with Hudson?” Her voice cracks when saying his name, her worry overriding everything else.

“We have an officer en route to him, as well as a social worker to claim guardianship for the time being,” O’Connor states softly, his situational awareness kicking in and warning him to tread lightly. Andi whimpers, a shaky hand covering her mouth as she processes what this could mean for the tiny boy she’s grown so attached to. None of us imagined this would be the outcome when today started. I’d give just about anything to rewrite the events of this morning, to leave a few minutes earlier, avoid being late and stuck in traffic while Andi was enduring yet another trauma that’s going to mark her soul for the rest of eternity.

“I don’t mean to overstep, but I think the best thing you can do right now is focus on your own well-being,” O’Connor advises, though it’s clear he doesn’t know Andi in the slightest. There’s nothing in the world that would take precedence over Hudson at the moment, herself included. “Regardless of how baseless Ada Stillwater’s accusations might be, that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to come for you with everything she’s got. Off the record, I’d advise you to seek legal counsel in case this takes a turn for the worse.” My palms start to sweat, an anxious energy thrumming beneath my skin, urging me to get Andi away from here and tucked safely inside the walls of my apartment.

“We appreciate the transparency, Chief.” I stand, extending my hand outward for him to shake. Despite our tumultuous working relationship, I’m grateful to him for how this case is being handled. Too many times, shit like this has been swept under the rug or downplayed just to save face and prevent local law enforcement from looking incompetent. No one wants to admit something so heinous has been flourishing inside of their own jurisdiction, but Chaplain’s officials have done a damn good job of keeping any defensive tendencies at bay.

“I’ll do what I can to pass along any information we get about the boy,” O’Connor assures us, propping open the door for us to exit.

No one debates our next move; somehow, the five of us come to a silent agreement that it’s best to get home as quickly as possible, though Briggs and Andi wouldn’t be coherent enough to give their input either way. Based on the droopiness of his eyes, it’s safe to say his meds are working. Andi, however, is likely locked inside her own head, replaying a scene she never should have witnessed in the first place. I can’t help but wonder: how many more times is she going to be retraumatized before this is finally over with? Honestly, I’m afraid to know the answer.

26

Andilyn

Ihave no memory of how we made it home. Since hearing of Hudson’s fate, it’s all been a blur. More than anything, I want a redo of this entire fucking day. I should’ve been more adamant when speaking with Seth, but fear of pushing him away kept me from saying anything he might take offense to, despite knowing his mental state was in a steady decline. I didn’t lie when I told Chief O’Connor that I never thought he’d resort to such a violent solution, but it’s impossible not to question whether there were signs I missed or purposely ignored to avoid the dark truth of how far gone Seth truly was.

“Angel.” Briggs’ voice, steady but tired, graciously interrupts the constant spiraling of my thoughts. “Let’s get some sleep.” His hand rests against my lower back, guiding me towards the closet. He steps behind me, easing my coat off before unzipping the dress I was in awe of just a few hours earlier. I stare at our joint reflections in the mirror as it slides to the floor and pools around my feet. Another eerily similar comparison to the one Veritas cut from my body. Maybe I’m doomed to never own anything that makes me feel good about myself, not without it being tarnished with a painful memory to accompany it.

I’m practically naked, a black bra and panty set the only thing covering me, but Briggs’ gaze never strays past analytical. I have no idea what he’s gone through in the past to make him react so viscerally to what happened today. It goes beyond the natural response a person would have. Deeper. And somehow, despite his own demons coming home to roost, he was still able to prioritize my safety in the heat of the moment. This beautiful, obsessive man is haunted, and there’s nothing more I want to do at the very second than to ease his worries. So even though it’s barely past noon, I’ll let him change me into something more comfortable and lie with him as long as he needs me to.

Briggs slides in beside me and tucks a blanket around us, sighing contentedly when I snuggle against his side. The crook of his arm might be the safest place I’ve felt in a long time. I wish I could give him more than this, more of myself, but I genuinely believe there isn’t anything left to give. I don’t doubt his intentions; I know he’s a good man, but Tobias broke something inside of me that feels irreparable at this point, despite the many times I’ve insisted otherwise. I might not be catatonic and locked inside of my own head, but I’m constantly doubting my trust and intuition. The damage he’s done to my discernment doesn’t magically disappear now that he’s dead.

“I’ll steal him for you,” Briggs mumbles, his body lax as consciousness begins to fade away.

“Steal who?” I question, my own thoughts being tugged on by the seductive pull of sleep.

“Hudson,” he states matter-of-factly, like it should be obvious who he’s referring to. “I’ll find him, no matter where they decide to cart him off to, and I’ll bring him back to you. We’ll flee the fucking country if we have to. Start our own family—just you, me, Huds, and that baby in your belly.” He shifts us both to our sides, curling his hand around my stomach. Tears prick my eyes, the sweetness of his words enticing my sensibilities to indulge in what he’s offering, regardless of how unrealistic it is. “I gotta admit though, my plan is definitely self-serving. If I can smuggle you away, I won’t have to compete with those other assholes for your attention.” A disbelieving laugh tumbles out of me unbidden.